


Nice Things

by On_Every_Spectrum



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Autism, Autistic Bucky Barnes, Autistic Character, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Returns, Bucky Barnes is Autistic and Has Sensory Needs, But It's Never Stated Explicitly, Feminine Bucky Barnes, Femme, Femme Bucky Barnes, Femme character, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderqueer, Genderqueer Bucky Barnes, Genderqueer Character, I'm Sorry, M/M, Non-Binary Author, Non-Binary Bucky Barnes, Non-Binary Character Written by a Non-Binary Author, Non-binary character, POV Bucky Barnes, Sensory Needs, Tactile Sensory Needs, The Avengers are good friends, Trans, Trans Bucky Barnes, Trans Character, Transfeminine Bucky Barnes, Transgender, Transgender Bucky Barnes, autistic author, autistic character written by an autistic author, feminine, non-binary, trans author, trans character written by a trans author, transfeminine, transfeminine character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-04-05 06:55:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19043431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/On_Every_Spectrum/pseuds/On_Every_Spectrum
Summary: "His hair was looser than it often was. Some of it unotuched, some arranged into a series of smaller braids, cascading down his back. Two thicker braids pulled back and tied in the middle, keeping everything out of his face.He'd tucked a yellow flower into those two braids. One Bruce had given him. Apparently it had been part of a bouquet in his apartment, but the other flowers had faded. Leaving just the one nice.He remembered painting his nails a bright yellow to match. Taking his time with his hair. He'd had fun getting ready that morning."





	Nice Things

In the thirties they didn't have money to spare. Steve couldn't work most of the time. And, Bucky overworked himself for too little pay.  
  
So, when Steve came home with a beautifully wrapped paper package. Nothing ornate, but clearly nice. Bought at a store that stocked quality products. Bucky was confused.  
  
And, upset.  
  
"Damn it, Steve. What the hell is this? We can't afford this kind of thing." Bucky had snapped, exhausted and worried. Steve was almost out of medicine and how the hell were they supposed to afford more.  
  
Steve had the good sense to look a bit bashful, but only a bit.   
  
"It's for you, Buck." He pressed it into Bucky's hands, not letting him refuse.  
  
"I got a commission." He explained, as an afterthought.  
  
"Please tell me you did it in pencil at least? Fixers aren't good for your lungs." Bucky replied out of habit, but he was already opening the package.  
  
The hose were silky smooth. A texture all their own. Bucky longed to feel them against his skin.  
  
"We can't afford luxuries." He forced himself to say, setting them down.  
  
"You deserve something nice." Steve said simply, before walking off. Leaving Bucky and the pantyhose behind.  
  
Bucky ignored them for three days. Just let them sit on the table. Tried not to let his eyes trail over to them.  
  
The fourth day he picked them up. Resisted the urge to run his fingers across them. Tucked them carefully into the corner of his sock drawer.  
  
The sixth day he put them on. He didn't bother to take them back off. Wore his trousers over them and enjoyed the silky feel against his skin all day.   
  
It wasn't that he was opposed to wearing ladies' clothing. He'd been doing that since he was six. But, they really didn't have the money.  
  
Still it was nice.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The first time he ever wore make-up, was right after his draft notice came. He'd wanted to for a while. Liked the colors. But, it seemed like a waste. To put on something he'd only have to take off an hour later.  
  
But, he was drafted and he had to leave and who knew if he'd come back. He bought the make-up himself.   
  
When the shop girl came up to assist him, tried to explain what his lady might like, he didn't tell her that he didn't need the help. That he'd been watching closely as each of his sisters learned about make-up. That he'd been keeping notes for himself.  
  
He got home and put the make-up on. Did a clumsy job of it, because even if he knew what to buy that didn't mean he had practice applying it. He loved it anyways.  
  
He stayed up far too late that night. Unwilling to wash his face and go to bed.

The second time he ever wore make-up, he wasn't himself. It had been decades. He didn't really understand why they were changing his appearance now. 

  
The Hydra lackies said something about facial recognition software and who cares if anyone figures out who he is anyways. Bucky didn't understand, so he ignored it.  
  
He didn't think about the make-up either. Not until he passed a mirror and thought "that's clumsier than even I did it." But, he didn't understand the thought.

 

* * *

 

  
Steve brought him back. He was himself again. Mostly. And, he had long hair now.  
  
He'd always wanted long hair. But, he couldn't remember growing it out. Couldn't remember when it had been cut. Something in him wanted to shave it all off and be rid of it.  
  
He couldn't quite bring himself to do it. He wanted to cut it, but he couldn't. So, it grew. It grew slowly. But, eventually, without ever having planned it, it was so much longer than anything Hydra would have allowed. And, it felt entirely his own.  
  
He loved having long hair. It was thick and silky. It felt wonderful across his shoulders or back. He didn't like it in his face though. That still reminded him of Hydra.  
  
Clint braided it first. They were watching a movie together. Bucky getting distracted by his hair and scowling as he pushed it back. Maybe he'd cut it after all.  
  
"You oughtta tie it back." Clint remarked, not even bothering to look over."  
  
"Yeah. Well, you know how?" Bucky snapped, annoyed. Thanks for the suggestion, Barton. Don't know why I didn't think about that.  
  
But, however he'd expected Clint to reply he didn't. He'd just shifted out of the uncomfortable looking position he'd been perched in on the couch. "Sure. Come over here will ya." He directed, looking at the floor directly in front of him.   
  
"You good having me behind you?" And, Bucky was glad he asked. He nodded, before settling down into the spot indicated. "Yeah. It's fine." He managed, still a bit embarrassed by how he'd snapped.  
  
But, Clint took it in stride. Running coarse fingers through Bucky's long hair. Neatening it. Then, a moment later he was separating it, working deftly.  
  
Bucky could feel the motions, but couldn't quite tell what was happening. Before he knew, Clint was done. Tying it off with a hair tie his boyfriend handed him, because of course Coulson just carried hair ties around with him.  
  
Clint didn't say anything. Bucky waited a moment, then moved back to the spot he'd been sat before. He couldn't quite resist the urge to touch his hair, pulling the braid around over his shoulder. It felt nice.   
  
After the movie, he looked in the mirror. It was a bit messy. Might have been nicer if they'd had a hair brush, but it was pretty.  
  
Later that day, he looked up videos on how to style hair. Started with a ponytail, because that seemed easiest. Every evening he practiced a different style.   
  
Before long, his hair looked different every day. He'd always been good with his hands. And, he enjoyed the variety. He sported a new hairstyle each day. And, it kept it out of his face.

 

* * *

 

  
  
Like the panty hose, the nail polish was a gift from Steve. A lovely dark purple shade that was promised to look almost black when it was applied. This time, Bucky didn't have any reason to be upset. They could afford it.  
  
Still, he let it sit for a few days first. He'd never loved his hands. They'd always been rough with hard work and too big for his liking. But, at least they were his.  
  
Now one of them wasn't. And, he wasn't certain he wanted to make it look pretty. Wasn't certain how that would feel.  
  
When he finally did paint his nails, he did a better job than he had with the make-up that first time. His hands had learned precision since then. They'd had to. He was a sniper.  
  
It felt nice to make something pretty with them. Felt nice to do something different than kill someone. Felt nice to take his metal hand and do something that made it his own.  
  
He bought more nail polish.

 

* * *

 

  
  
He thought it was Pepper who'd left the clipping. He never paid much attention to the press. Though he knew they were there. Thinking they were subtle with all those cameras.  
  
Still. It was a good picture. Cut out of a newspaper and left on the counter. Just the photo. The story and the headline had been removed, which made him suspect they weren't complimentary.  
  
But, the picture was good. He was walking, expression in the normal neutral place it was when he wasn't trying to look a certain way. His hair was looser than it often was. Some of it untouched, some arranged into a series of smaller braids, cascading down his back. Two thicker braids pulled back and tied in the middle, keeping everything out of his face.   
  
He'd tucked a yellow flower into those two braids. One Bruce had given him. Apparently it had been part of a bouquet in his apartment, but the other flowers had faded. Leaving just the one nice.  
  
He remembered painting his nails a bright yellow to match. Taking his time with his hair. He'd had fun getting ready that morning.  
  
But, his outfit was boring. Lounge pants and a fitted t-shirt. He pinned the photo up on his cork board. And, resolved that he really needed to get some better clothes.

 

* * *

 

  
  
He went shopping with Natasha. She'd apparently done research and found a lovely locally owned clothing shop that marketed to "trans and gender-nonconfirming people." Bucky hadn't bothered doing research himself. He trusted Natasha  
  
A shop assistant greeted them when they walked in. They were tall and pretty. With lilac colored hair almost as long as Bucky's own.   
  
"Hello. Let me know if I can help you with anything." They called from behind the counter where they read a magazine. Natasha looked at Bucky. Then, looked at the shopkeeper.   
  
"Actually. We probably could use some help. I think my friend here is still figuring out sizing." The shopkeeper came over. "Yeah. Women's clothes are a bitch. A large can mean six different things depending on who makes it." They put air quotes on the word "women's."   
  
Bucky made himself smile. "Can't say I have much experience with that yet, but it sounds like a pain. "What's your name?" He asked.   
  
"Rose." They answered. And, Bucky and Natasha each shared their own names in return.  
  
"Pronouns?" Was the shopkeeper's next question, offered half-distractedly as they waved at someone else coming in.   
  
Natasha answered immediately. "She and hers." Which Bucky was grateful for, because he wasn't quite certain how to answer himself. It had been a long time since his English lessons in school, but he suspected that wouldn't be that helpful anyways.  
  
He glanced at Natasha for help. "What do you want to be called?" She asked gently. "He? She? They?" The choices clarified a bit.  
  
"He or they?" He offered half tentatively. "I like pretty things, but I don't think I'm a dame." He felt the need to justify.  
  
The shopkeeper smiled softly. "That's all right. You don't have to be a woman to use she/her pronouns. But, you also can use whatever feels comfortable for you."  
  
"What pronouns do you use?" Bucky asked, wanting to extend the same courtesy. And, it seemed like the right response because the shopkeeper, Rose, smiled again. "Ze and hir."  
  
Bucky blinked, but Rose just went on to provide examples. "Like ze is working at the shop. And, I met hir there. Make sense?"  
  
And, it didn't entirely. But, he thought he got it well enough. So, he nodded and made a mental note to practice that more when he got home.  
  
The shopping trip was a lot of fun. It took a bit to figure out exactly what style he wanted. And, to sort through all the scratchy fabrics they tried to offer him. Who knew lace was so horrible feeling?  
  
But, he ended up getting three skater dresses and several pairs of bright leggings and some loose crop tops that fell off one of his shoulders. And, they were all made out of soft knit fabrics that felt good against his skin.  
  
The shopkeeper, Rose, also mentioned that ze was transfeminine at one point. And, non-binary. So, Bucky had added those to his list of words to look up. When they left ze gave him card for a support group ze helped run for "gender questioning" people.  
  
Bucky didn't attend the group. But, he did look up non-binary. And, that led him to trans. And, femme. And, genderqueer.

 

* * *

  
  
That's what he told Steve he was. Femme and genderqueer. And, femme wasn't exactly a new term to them, but genderqueer was.   
  
He didn't change his pronouns. He liked the contrast. Between the pretty feminine things and the more masculine pronouns he was used to. Though, the internet was pretty clear that pronouns weren't inherently masculine or feminine. You could use whatever you like.  
  
Bucky never came out to everyone. Never felt the need to. But, he told his friends. And, he wore pretty things. And, he learned new words for himself. And, when he returned to the store where Rose worked he told hir thank you.  
  
He never did thank Steve for always telling him he deserved nice things. He never needed to. Steve knew.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky is autistic here. Sorry, it's never stated explicitly. That simply wasn't relevant to this particular story. That being said, his experiences of autism are in part based upon my own.


End file.
